Past, Present, Future Imperfect
by alyseci5
Summary: It was Cara, with her suspicion and her snapped remarks, who seemed the youngest sometimes, in spite of the way that the world had aged her. And Zedd had always had an affinity for the very young


**Characters/Pairing:** Cara and Zedd, mostly gen but with references to canon Cara/Leo and Cara/Dahlia and implied potential for future Cara/Dahlia

**Spoilers:** Set post Season 2

**Disclaimer:** Legend of the Seeker (TV) belongs to ABC Studios/Disney. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.

**Author's Notes:** Written for trobadora. Thanks go to Aithine for the beta. This also won a couple of lotseekerfic fanfiction award, which thrilled me immensely.**  
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The moon was high in the sky when Zedd woke, sweat drying on his skin and a gasp dying in his throat. He and bad dreams were old friends, but even so it was strange how the worst of them seemed to haunt his steps once the crisis was past, tormenting him with what might have beens but never weres. Perhaps it was because he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that they'd won, that the Keeper had been defeated and the Midlands saved, not after travelling the breadth of the land for nigh on a year in their quest and coming so close to losing, more than once.

His faith in Richard had seldom faltered, even when things had seemed bleakest, and that faith had been repaid a thousand times over. Oh, they were all human, all subject to the frailties of being human - especially Zedd himself. Even Richard, with his faith in others, trusting them to be the best they could be, no matter what. Perhaps Richard, being most human, was the most vulnerable of them in ways that Zedd couldn't even begin to think about, but then, it helped that Richard was seldom wrong in whom he placed his trust.

It was that trust that let Richard sleep so soundly in his blankets on the other side of the fire, his face finally peaceful and relaxed, the strain of the last few long months easing from it. He looked so very young that it made Zedd's heart ache; it was difficult to remember just how young Richard was given how readily he shouldered the burdens that Zedd had placed upon his shoulders. He'd seen barely twenty-four winters, twenty-four glorious summers and yet had saved the world twice now. It would make Zedd feel old if such a thing were possible when he was surrounded by such youth and resilience.

Kahlan, asleep beside Richard, wasn't much older than her love. Zedd could make out her shape in the moonlight, her face pale and composed against the darkness of her hair. She had one arm outstretched, turning towards Richard even in her sleep. Her hand rested on Richard's chest, right over his heart, and Richard's hand lay on hers, their fingers tangled together. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, or Zedd's foolish, romantic heart that not even the years he'd spent on this earth had tempered entirely, but he thought that there was a slight smile playing around the corners of her mouth, even as deeply asleep as she was.

There was no sign of his remaining charge though, knowing Cara as he did, Zedd suspected that she'd strenuously object to that description, seeing them all as her charges rather than the other way around. And, indeed, when he rolled over - his old bones protesting at the hard ground they all slept on - Cara was indeed watching over them all, her back against a tree and her arms folded across her chest.

She looked up when she heard him move, but she was far enough from the firelight that he couldn't read her expression. Far enough for the firelight not to hamper her night vision, as well, and he wasn't surprised when her face turned away again, back out towards the darkness.

He was a silly old fool who never knew well enough to leave things alone that should never be meddled with; the knowledge of his own foibles, however, didn't stop him from pushing himself up onto his feet, stretching with a groan and ambling towards her.

She watched him come, saying nothing, but he thought that the angle of her head now said all she needed to. There was a watchfulness evident in the lines of her body, one that had little to do with what might be lurking out there in the dark. And when he grew close enough to her to see her face clearly, her look was suspicious. She didn't say anything, however, no pointed little jibes, and for Cara that was a miracle. But she continued to watch him closely as he settled against the tree next to hers, facing her, staring up at the moon above.

"It's a clear night," he offered mildly and she huffed, the sound full of her normal impatience. "It will be cold before morning."

She tilted her head and the moonlight fell clear upon her face - clear enough for him to see her raised eyebrow.

"Did you really wake up to talk to me about the weather, wizard?"

He smiled, inclining his head ruefully. But he suspected that his affection for her was written clear across his face if the way her look turned even more suspicious was any indication.

"What is it?"

And that was the Cara he knew - no hesitation in stepping straight up to him and looking him in the eye - metaphorically if not literally in this case. Or any case, really, given that he had several inches and more on Cara. Not that this fact ever seemed to stop her.

"It is nothing, dear one." The term fell from his lips automatically - perhaps he was more tired than he thought, more wrung out by their journey and particularly the events of the last few days. Or perhaps it was because of the three of his young companions, it was Cara, with her suspicion and her snapped remarks, who seemed the youngest sometimes, in spite of the way that the world had aged her. And Zedd had always had an affinity for the very young.

She stared at him, holding his gaze for long moments, but he was too used to her by now to waver. He simply leant back against his tree and smiled at her; it was that, he knew, that would make her the most nervous.

She rolled her eyes, mirroring his position and folding her arms across her chest.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, Cara. Simply... enjoying the moonlight. And the company."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her fingers tapping out an impatient little rhythm on her leather-clad arm. And then her head tilted again, her look considering as her agile mind obviously leapt ahead of him to some conclusion that he didn't even want to contemplate.

"You've been following me around for days, wanting to know where I am, what I'm doing..."

"I worry about you," he said mildly, and she snorted at that, the tilt of her head half mocking and yet still suspicious.

"I can take care of myself, Zedd." Her hand came to rest automatically on her agiel, as if to emphasise the point, but there was no threat in it. Cara was never subtle in her threats, preferring actions to speak louder than words; this move, it seemed, was more to reassure herself than to remind him how dangerous she could be. As though Cara ever needed reassurance, and as though he ever forgot.

"I know you can," he said. "And the rest of us, of course."

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say. The tilt to her head this time had a note of aggression to it; maybe it was a trick of the moonlight, but Zedd would swear that a frown crossed her face.

He was prone to bumbling into things, seldom letting concern stop him from venturing into dangerous territory, no matter how he advised Richard. He was too old a fool to learn to do better now.

"It was dark magic, you know," he said, and if his tone was conversational, well... Cara had known him too long by now to be nonplussed by him for long.

"What?"

There was no give in her tone, but there never was, and Zedd never heeded warning signs anyway.

"That Rahl used on you. Darker than ever I've seen."

"In that other world." Still flat and hard. "The one where Richard and Kahlan were married."

"No," he corrected gently, but he was careful not to meet her eyes, shadowed as they were. Instead he stared up at the stars; they, at least, had not changed. "That was after I cast the spell; this was before."

"When Darken Rahl broke me."

"With darker magic than I have ever seen." He kept his voice gentle - it wasn't hard, not with Cara, for all her bristles and all of her pride - and met her eyes now. Her gaze stayed shadowed, giving nothing away, and his heart clenched for a moment. "You must have fought hard, for him to resort to that."

She snorted and looked away, her fingers still resting on her agiel, but he knew her well enough by now - or thought he did - that he didn't take offence. Or take fright, for all he'd seen - and experienced - what she could do with it. "Are you trying to compliment me, you old fool?"

That startled a laugh out of him, although he kept it soft out of respect for their fellow travellers. She could still surprise him sometimes, this Cara of theirs.

"I know better than that I think."

"I doubt it." She turned to face him, her brow furrowed and casting dark shadows over her face. Her eyes seemed to flicker in the firelight as she examined him; he sat back and let her. "I would not have betrayed Richard willingly," she admitted reluctantly, but even that was progress for Cara. More than he expected.

"I know." He left it at that, because that was all that was needed. Except for the fact, of course, that he was an old meddling fool who should know better. "She had us all fooled," he said. "Dahlia."

She shrugged dismissively. "I don't know her." And his heart clenched again.

"You were close. Very close. I..." And this was none of his business, not any of it, but. Cara might not remember but Zedd did, how Dahlia had watched her. How Cara had watched back. How carefully they had danced around each other, both wanting and both wary. "She was Mord-Sith."

"So am I." There was a bite to Cara's words that had been missing before. "And I did not betray the true Lord Rahl."

"Nor did she," he said mildly. "Not by her reckoning."

Cara snorted again, but there was a bite to that as well, something bitter lurking beneath the surface. Spirits, sometimes dealing with the woman was like wading through marshland. One false step and something unpleasant would rise up to drag you under.

But there was still beauty to be found blooming in the marshlands, if you knew where to look. More beautiful still, he thought, because of the bleakness around it.

"You never knew her then?" he asked, picking his steps with care. "Back in Stowcroft? You said you were taken from the same village by the Mord-Sith when you were young. That you both survived your training because of each other. That kind of bond, Cara, that kind of friendship is not something to be dismissed just because fate unfolds a little differently. Especially not when fate's been given a nudge by magic."

Cara made a noise, whether of agreement or disagreement he couldn't tell. He held his silence for once, as difficult as that was, and finally she said, as reluctant as he'd ever heard her be, "There may have been a girl once, when I was young." She glanced at him as she said it and looked away, just as quickly, and he bit his tongue so that it couldn't run away with him the way it normally did.

"I see," he said and it came out on a slight lisp, stinging where his teeth had caught. He wasn't sure he did, entirely, but that had never stopped him.

"We were friends," she said, then stopped abruptly. He made an encouraging noise or two and she shot him a look that was trademark Cara - all impatience at his transparent ploy.

"Apparently you were more," he said, as mild as milk. "I don't sleep quite as soundly as you think." She gave him a look, one that was part irritation and the rest annoyance. And all Cara, with all those undercurrents underneath.

"I thought I was married to Leo in this wonderful world of yours," she said, and he didn't bother correcting her, not when her mouth twisted, clear in the moonlight, and her eyes grew even more shadowed as she leaned back so that he could no longer make out the look in them.

He stared up into the stars as they twinkled blithely overhead instead, and thought his way through.

"Souls have a way of finding each other," he said eventually, ignoring the sound she made as she shuffled impatiently and the look she sent his way. Being Cara, she wasn't content to hold her tongue.

"Are you trying to say that Leo and I were soul mates?" Perhaps he was imagining it, but the incredulity in her voice didn't quite mask the pain underneath from his ears, old though they were. "We knew each other for a handful of days, wizard. I hardly think our 'love' was the sort of stuff that epics are made of." The 'like Richard and Kahlan' went unsaid, but he heard it hanging in the air anyway. She was always so self-contained, Cara. He'd never thought her lonely, just alone. Perhaps he'd been wrong about that.

"Souls have a way of finding each other again," he repeated, as though she hadn't spoken, although he knew that would annoy her further. But annoying Cara was becoming one of his admittedly more dangerous hobbies, and this time, at least, he was safely out of reach of her agiels. "You and Leo found each other in that world as well as in this one, much as you and Dahlia had found each other in the one before." He leant back against the tree, feeling the bark rough even through his robes, all sharp edges but growing strong and true in spite of it. "Maybe it's time you visited your sister again. Now that Richard's quest is over."

"And look up this... Dahlia, I suppose."

"Aren't you the least bit curious, Cara?"

"I am Mord-Sith. We do not seek to satisfy our idle curiosity."

"Only the dead aren't curious," he said. "And even then it could be argued otherwise."

"I was under the impression that curiosity is often fatal. For cats, anyway." She gave him another pointed look. "And most probably wizards, given the way you tend to fool around with things." But unless he really was mistaken - misled by the moonlight or his own fancies - there was, at least, a spark of something in her eyes. It could well be curiosity, or perhaps that roast rabbit last evening hadn't agreed with Cara either.

"What could it hurt to pay a visit to your sister?" he asked, and she shot him a deeply suspicious look, fingers tapping an impatient little beat on her agiel. "You said she was a good cook," he added, and those same fingers relaxed as she rolled her eyes; sometimes his love for his stomach served him well.

"You and your stomach," she huffed, and he swallowed down a smile, thankful for the moonlight which hid it. "Being led astray by that is going to kill you, never mind curiosity." It appeared that sometimes even Mord-Sith could be fooled; for their own good, of course.

He'd planted the seed. Now he just had to wait patiently to see if anything would grow. He would give half the world to see Cara bloom, happy and content, to see her smile at someone the way she had at Leo and at Dahlia both.

He would give half his heart just to see Cara's whole.

The End


End file.
